


Turbulence

by gondalsqueen



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Fancy Flying, Shower Sex, So basically all the good things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:38:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9362507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gondalsqueen/pseuds/gondalsqueen
Summary: Early in their relationship, Kanan discovers that Hera's not above bringing a little post-battle energy to the bedroom. Or the shower, as the case may be.Written to fulfill a request for shower sex. On that note, I assume you're here for the sex, because that's what happens.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CynderMizuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynderMizuki/gifts).



Kanan pulled Hera aboard the Lambda shuttle as the blaster bolt hit his armor, and had a terrifying millisecond to think about it bouncing back right into her face. But no. It had gone sideways, though she jumped (surprised or singed?). He slapped the panel to shut the hatch and hauled her towards the cockpit, while she concentrated on putting out the flames that had spread to his hair with a gloved hand. There. No more fire in his peripheral. Hera shook off his hand and ran to the pilot’s seat.

“We’ve got no guns on this thing!” he yelled.

“I’m on it!” she yelled back, which he supposed meant fancy flying. Oh, yeah, this one was going to be close. He buckled in next to her.

They made it off the ground before backup arrived, but not much more. “Go. Go. GO!” Kanan encouraged her, but she was dawdling, and snapped back at him, “I’m not leading them straight to the Ghost!”

The Ghost. At the foot of a mountain just outside the city, with Chopper keeping watch.

So she went port, into the construction zone for the new stadium, abandoned for the holiday. And she courted the TIES, taking a hit, smashing them against the narrow walls, taking another hit, looping back through the massive entrance—like playing tag in a shuttle hangar. He felt a tug at his heart (and then a lower, more familiar tug) at the sight of Hera destroying so much Imperial property, but they really didn’t have the shields for this, and…

“Hera…” The _shields down_ alarm beeped furiously at them. Only one fighter left.

“I’ve got it.”

The next shot rocked them hard and sent them nosediving for the dirt, but she righted them and braked to port again.

They were hit for real, though—leaking fuel lines and the smell of burnt durasteel. Fire spread from the back of the shuttle forward.

“HERA!”

“Relax, Love, I’ve GOT it.”

She led the final TIE through a narrow archway and the flames at the back of their own ship obscured the explosion of it colliding with the arch. Hera looked a little disappointed as the instruments cleared. No more hostiles.

But they were still on fire, and it was spreading. “Can’t set her down here,” Kanan thought out loud. Where could they go, then?

“No,” Hera agreed. She pulled out of the loop and made like a blaster bolt for the line of the atmosphere.

Oh, very clever! As long as they hadn’t burned any holes in the shuttle.

The smoke streamed out behind them. The heat from the flames crept forward, into the passenger area. Hera frowned in determination and punched it. Blue. Dark blue. There! No more oxygen. The flames fizzled out. Hera let them float for a moment.

They looked at each other, let out identical sighs, and broke into simultaneous laughter.

They didn’t hear the hiss of escaping air until they stopped for breath.

“Back down?” Kanan suggested.

“Mm hmm.”

When they made it back to the Ghost, fuel lines like a sieve and brakes nonexistent, she had to make an emergency landing on the strange angle of the mountainside, bumping three times on the surface of the snow and jolting even Kanan’s joints before skidding to a messy halt. Well. Any lesser pilot, and they’d be dead.

“Well,” said Hera, echoing his own thoughts. And then, “That could have been worse.”

“Pretty kriffing impressive. You okay?” They’d both been shaken like rag dolls.

“Yes. You?”

“Yep.”

They stood there for a moment, and then two, catching their breaths, waiting for their hearts to still. Color had crept into Hera’s cheeks. When she spoke, the words came out low and breathy, but she said, “We would have left a fuel trail.”

“Yeah,” Kanan agreed, five seconds before processing what she’d said.

“If anyone’s still looking for us.” Her eyes didn’t leave his face.

“Yeah.” A sigh. He rubbed his hand over his face and the spell was broken. They left the wrecked shuttle and trotted to the Ghost together, both reeking of fuel.

“Chopper!” Three sharp raps. “Open up! Get her ready for takeoff!”  

The ramp lowered dutifully, and Kanan wondered for a moment if Chopper was feeling okay.

“Kanan—were we followed?”

He’d been sending out feelers since they landed. “I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway. Go. Get us to hyperspace.”

She nodded and headed for the cockpit. Kanan climbed into the gun turret for a few minutes, just in case, but as they started to climb and blue turned to crisp black with no sign of pursuit, he felt a little at loose ends. Then the usual hitch in his stomach and the blurring lines of stars that indicated the jump to hyperspace, and they were…safe. Yeah. They were good. He climbed down and met Hera in the cockpit.

“I want to check a few things, make sure we’re on the best route,” she said, without looking up.

He had too much energy left for such a peaceful ending. “Come shower.”

She laughed. “I know I stink. You go first.”

“Thanks.” She’d missed his point, though.

“You’re welcome, Love. Get clean.” And now she was missing his tone on purpose, he was sure of it. She muttered places and decimal points to herself, getting up to check something on the starboard readout.

“Get me if you need me?” He’d feel if they were in any trouble, though.

“Yep.”

Kanan turned to leave, and she smacked his rear as he maneuvered past her. Okay, he got the message. Work first, play later. Hera’s gaze flickered up for just a moment and her eyes grinned at him.

…

He let his hair out of its queue in front of the mirror. It felt like… Yep. Charred a few inches on one side. Lucky he’d had Hera to put it out before he noticed it. His face in the mirror looked like a feral stranger’s, striped with bands of soot that stopped abruptly where his collar began, and when he blew his nose, black ash came out. Yuck. This was reminiscent of some of his rougher teenage years.

Okay, into the shower. At least get clean. The water hitting his skin didn’t make him feel any less strange, though. He was…charged. That had been a close call, and while every day was a close call, this one he could still smell on his skin. He soaped his face and let himself think about the split second when he wasn’t sure whether the blaster bolt had hit Hera in the head or not. His stomach clenched in response. All right, that’s dealt with. Put it away. He turned instead to the picture of Hera, flames streaking close to her on either side, calmly pushing for the edge of the atmosphere, certain she could make it. Something else clenched at that memory. He lathered under his arms, his feet, his still-dirty neck. He’d probably need some soap action on certain other body parts before he could really calm down.

A waft of cold air hit his back and Hera’s hip brushed against his backside as she slipped into the shower with him. Then again, maybe that soap action could wait.

“Did you get burned?” She pulled his hair aside, examining his neck.

“Uh uh. We’re on a good route?”

“Yeah.” She planted a kiss on the back of his shoulder, so small in comparison to what he was feeling that shivers went down his sides.

“Hera…” It was half-question and half-suggestion.

She was already lathering her hands, though, and washing neck, armpits, breasts with businesslike aplomb. “I am filthy. Did you get a chance to wash yet?”

“Hmm. Sort of.”

And then he jumped and almost slipped as her soapy hand closed around the base of his shaft. Okay. Okay, his nerves had already gathered right there and he was hard enough to give her something to hold onto, for sure. She soaped him—four sharp strokes. “Want me to help?” she asked.

“Oh, good Force.” His voice pitched deep in his throat. The water hit his upturned face. He swallowed hard.

But then her grip withdrew and she let the water rinse him and worked her hands into a mass of soap again. Kanan regained one or two brain cells—enough to lather his own hands and draw them down her sides. Thumbs skating over her stomach. Then around, cupping her ass, washing the backs of her thighs, letting his touch graze inwards until she whimpered and then keened and shifted against his hand. His fingers slipped easily against her, and her hips jerked instinctively in response. She’d stepped into the shower as ready as he was.

The dogfight. Oh, Hera. She’d enjoyed that kind of knife’s edge flying. Of course she would.

And Hera didn’t mind steering here, either. She ran a finger down his chest and circled his by now desperate erection. Then she canted her hips against him. He wanted to take her against the wall of the shower, and she was wet but still taut against his fingers, and he had. To calm. Down.  

Hera planted her back hard against the shower wall, limbs tense. She wanted to be fucked, badly, was angling for it. He’d step in and she’d pull one knee up between them with that absurd flexibility, and—

And he’d pound her against the wall. No. He wasn’t doing that yet. This certainly wasn’t their first time, but he could count on two hands… In fact, he realized, it was their tenth time. Even with Hera’s hand pulling at him insistently and his brain mostly gone, he could remember every one. They’d found an easy, dependable rhythm, but they were still feeling out the things they could do around the edges. And Kanan was fairly sure that if he took her the way he wanted her right now, she’d be sore afterwards.

He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, failed to get it together.

“Kanan.” Hera’s breathing had gone shallow, her eyes bright. “It’s all right. Here, hold still.”

That, he could agree to do. Hera slid to her knees and resumed her grip. Then, with perfect composure, her tongue darted out, lapping tiny, rough strokes around his head. He wanted her desperately, and here was her hand pumping him, her tongue dancing across tight veins, about to give him a heart attack.

“Hera—Nnnngh…” Articulate. Good going, Kanan.

Obligingly, she took him into her mouth. Her head bobbed and her tongue pumped and she was sliding on his cock: he could see her lips stretch around it. “Hera. Hera!” He tried to clear his head a little. “If you want to stop, I’m about to—” But she didn’t want to stop.

He was slipping in his old age, or she was ten times better than he remembered anyone being in the past, or he was charged and excited and scared and wanted to have her much too badly. The whole thing hadn’t taken two minutes.

Kanan helped her up and would have wrapped his arms around her, but she turned her face up to the shower and let the water stream into her mouth. The matching curve of nose and eyelashes in profile—he knew those well. And the tense lines of her own pleasure, waiting in her face. The water ran down her neck.

“You know,” he said, “you didn’t have to—”

She cut him off, spitting a stream of water at his face in an arc like a fountain.

“Hey! You didn’t have to do that, either!”

Hera laughed and turned tail out of the shower. Kanan followed her, catching the towel that she threw at him. In the ten seconds it took him to give the towel a perfunctory run over his body and swipe at his hair, she’d dried and was waiting for him with that playful half-smile, steam floating up around her.  

He meant to tease back. He did. But somehow instead he ended up kissing her like a lost soul, Hera up on the counter with barely enough room to sit, his lips on her mouth and her neck, her lekku and her mouth again.

Kanan stepped in closer and his hip grazed the inside of her thigh. Her breath caught. Well. That was nice. He ran his fingertips up her thigh and she arched and would have slid off the counter if he hadn’t gripped her knees. “Whoa! Hold on,” he told her. “I have an idea.”

“Hmm?” Poor Hera. She looked at him from under heavy-lidded eyes, and he knew just how she felt. It was Kanan’s turn to slide to his knees and press a kiss against her thigh.

Hera arched wildly, and in the end he had to hold her rear while she perched half off the counter the whole time. Good thing he’d been concentrating on that endurance training.

Her skin smelled clean, and she tasted like…butter. No, like Hera. Kanan concentrated—slow strokes with the rough of his tongue. Her hips twitched. She moaned. She was all kinds of ready, but taking her time riding out the trip. _He_ certainly didn’t have any objections. If he angled her just right… There. He could see her face, eyes closed and brow tense almost to pain with effort.

“Hera?” he asked. 

“Don’t change anything,” she gasped out.

All right. He kept at her, slow and rough, and when she was perched right on the edge of climax he slipped a finger inside of her and she came before he got to a second stroke.

Kanan waited until her breathing started to slow before he carefully withdrew, stood, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed the top of her head. Hera laughed, a relieved breath.

“I think you left your clothes in the common room,” he told her.

“You’re half hard again,” she told him.

“Have you ever taken a look at yourself without clothes? That’s probably going to be a permanent state today. Well—” he grinned, self-deprecating. “Semi-permanent.”

She shifted on the counter, nudged him with her hip, moistened her lips. “Do you want to—?”

“It’s fine. I’m satisfied.”

“I want to.”

His cock jumped against her thigh.

Hera grinned and squeezed him. “So. Your turn again. It’s still warm in here. You want me on the counter, or the floor, or back in the shower…?”

Kanan might have had a list of places and positions ready to go. He flipped the switch to de-fog the mirror, slid her off the counter, and turned her around with guiding hands on her hips. Then he splayed his hand over her stomach and drew her back against him, neck to knees. “You see?”

She looked. The mirror cut them off at mid-thigh, but she saw, and he saw, the symmetry of lekku, shoulders, breasts, the indentation of her waist, the arc of her hips. His spread hand covering her stomach, shockingly warm against the paler green there.

“You sure you’re up for this again already?” he asked.

Hera was staring at his hand. “I want you inside me,” she answered.

He swallowed, blood pulsed down his shaft, and she swallowed in response, feeling him against her backside.

“Lean over,” he murmured in her ear.

Hera’s lekku quivered, but she did as he suggested, leaning on bent forearms against the counter. He brought his palm around and traced the arc of her spine, then tested her with a finger. Still wet, still warm.

“Kanan!” she insisted.

Her breasts in the mirror rose and fell in time with her breath. He squeezed her ass, then pulled her open carefully and watched as he pressed the line of his erection inside her. Then he watched her closed eyelids while her body relaxed—and then clenched suddenly—and then relaxed again as he eased deeper. Hera…was… All those months he had loved her and his heart had soared up into his head when she smiled. All the times her fingers worked skillfully at some repair. All the wolfish grins before she flew into a fight. He’d wanted her to be happy, to be happy at _him_ , and here he was sinking into her like wet sand and she felt fantastic, she loved it.

“Keep going,” she murmured in all the natural authority that was Hera. He withdrew and slid in slowly, deeper this time. The usual flush had spread down her face and neck and was fanning out across her chest, now. He could sense her pleasure from that as surely as from the push and pull of her body around his cock. And then there was the tight coil of pleasure she must feel somewhere, because her signature in the Force right now looked like a bright copper coil.

He pushed into the center of that feeling, taking her in slow, even strokes. Her breasts moved against her arms when he entered her. Her throat constricted in a swallow. Her lips parted, panting.

“Kanan.” This time it was just a breath.

“Yes?”

“Fuck me. Oh!” as he pierced a little deeper. “Fuck me.”

Her moan vibrated up his shaft and in his ears. Her nipples pebbled against her forearms and her lekku hiked up high and her cheeks went rose and green. Her body gripped and caressed him. She was close, hanging on edge. It wasn’t quite enough.

“Touch yourself,” he suggested.

Hera’s eyes flew open and met his. She certainly hadn’t been shy about that sort of thing, but here, in the mirror, she was a lot more exposed than she had been in the past. She considered for a moment, then let her eyes drift closed again and her hand drift down between her legs. She wasn’t watching, now, but he was. She rubbed herself quickly, her fingers pushing against his cock where he was buried just inside of her. Quickly. Then she arched her head back and let out a sharp breath and came, otherwise silent, clenching around him in a delightful push and pull. Kanan stilled and rode out her climax, which coiled around him and then slowly relaxed.

“Hera—” his own groan sounded strangled, frustrated.

“Mm hmm,” she agreed. “How? Like this?”

He touched her wrist and gestured at the ground, and she slipped off of him and bunched the towels under herself in an instant, and was pulling him down to her before he’d completely registered what was happening.

Kanan didn’t need to be told twice, though. Hera’s legs were parted and her body eager, and her breasts bounced and quivered every time he crashed into her. He didn’t think he’d be able to come a second time until all of a sudden he did, spilling into her with his face buried in the side of her neck.

They stayed that way until she brought up a knee and shoved him off: “I love you, but I love breathing more.” Then he stretched out beside her and she rested her neck on his arm so her lekku weren’t crushed against the ground, and they laughed and caught their breath. Hera had just enough room to cross her ankles and prop her legs on the wall. Kanan bent his knees to fit, but he didn’t mind. Here was Hera next to him, all plains and valleys and gorgeous hills. He ran a palm down her stomach and she sighed and said, “Continued later in the bottom bunk. Or the spare bunk. Or the common area, Chopper’s busy in the cockpit. Somewhere softer.”

“Yeah. Sure thing.” She arched her back and sat up, and the joints of her spine cracked. Kanan watched her, evaluating. “You’re okay?”

“Yes, Kanan, I’m okay.” That got him the teasing eyebrow. “The floor’s a little cold, but I’ll probably survive.”

He grinned back. “Just checking.”

“You usually are. But you know better than to say anything about it.”

Kanan shrugged, embarrassed. She could take care of herself. She could take care of everyone else, too, for that matter. Hera disarmed all of his fears by being just as good as he was—better, given the right circumstances. Like today—left to his own devices, he never would have made it out so neatly.

But he couldn’t stop being himself, and that meant…checking. “Sorry. Can’t resist. Look, I know you’re capable. I just want to make sure you’re…comfortable, too. Not just here. Always.”

Hera shrugged back, unworried. “It doesn’t bother me. Most of the time. I don’t think you’re coddling me; I think you act that way with everyone.”

“Probably. I just like to keep an eye on our perimeter.”

“My perimeter.”

He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Your perimeter, for sure.”

She laughed, but she meant the next thing she said, too. “It’s nice. I _do_ feel comfortable. It’s nice to be able to relax every so often and know that if there’s any trouble, you’ll sense it before I will. But you don’t have to worry about me, love. I’ve been bumped around a lot. As far as I can tell, I don’t break.”

“Not you. You bounce and then take off flying.”

“Mm hmm.” She stretched from toes to fingertips, consciously putting on a show, then offered him a hand up. “If you want to make me comfortable, though, you can whip up some of that flatbread you make.” She’d beaten the Empire, and she wanted to celebrate her triumph with every sense.

“Yeah. I can do that.”

“And Kanan?”

“Yeah?”

“Try not to worry so much. I kind of like a little rough air.”

**Author's Note:**

> Now you should go listen to Lord Huron's "[Hurricane](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0IEcOqqqAc)," because that's what I was listening to while I wrote this. Good stuff.


End file.
